The Eighth Day

Chapter 30

"Team leader, report! I need a status update now, goddamn it!"

From the back seat, Emma Tyler bore witness to the disintegration of Chad Dodd.

They'd parked two streets over. Echo-7 arrived right on schedule. An agent invited him into the house and led him to the kitchen, where he'd find a news app opened to a directive that would close the book on this entire fiasco once and for all. The urge to read it should have been irresistible, yet somehow he had resisted.

After Dodd gave the kill order, the agent went for the rifle hidden in the refrigerator while those waiting upstairs and on the back porch moved in as well. And then they listened over the car's audio as all hell broke loose in the house. Overlapping shouts of confusion tangled with primal cries of pain and bedlam.

"Status! What's your status? What the fuck is happening in there?"

Someone screamed.

"Shit!" Dodd slammed his fist against the dashboard. "Shit, shit, shit! Get us back to the house. Hurry, hurry!"

Without a word, Jensen stomped on the gas and the sedan rocketed forward, throwing them back in their seats. Emma braced herself as they squealed around one corner after another.

"There he is!" Dodd pointed.

Ahead of them, Echo-7 sprinted across the front yard, away from the house and toward the street.

"Run that fucker down!"

The whine of the engine became a scream as they accelerated. Jensen lowered his head and clenched the wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Echo-7 crossed the sidewalk and dashed into the street.

He turned and saw them coming, but rather than trying to reverse directions, he threw himself forward, leapt over the hood of the sedan, and slid across its surface. He slammed into the windshield. It caved in with a horrific crunch. A spiderweb of cracks exploded across the glass and blinded them. Echo-7 bounced off the windshield and flew over the roof as they sped by. Jensen jammed on the brakes. Emma twisted in her seat and strained to look out the back window.

Instead of thumping into the street behind them and tumbling along like a limp rag doll, he came down on his feet in a neat three-point landing—one leg bent, the other extended out to the side, his weight supported with one hand on the pavement and the other outstretched back in counterbalance. From beneath his bangs, his gaze smoldered with fury.

"Holy shit," Emma said, the words no more than an exhalation.

Echo-7 raced toward the compact parked alongside them at the curb. Emma fumbled for the pistol holstered on her hip. He flung open the compact's door, fell into the passenger seat, and reached into the car's center console compartment. She pulled the pistol free of its holster, but before she could lift it, he turned with a gun of his own. Their eyes met.

"Get down!" Dodd hollered.

Echo-7 pointed his gun at her. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

The gun had no silencer. When it went off, the shots boomed and echoed and shattered the morning's illusion of normalcy. Emma imagined families inside their homes, still wearing flannel pajamas and robes and slippers, turning from holo-screens or computers or spoonfuls of cereal in surprise. A murder of crows squawked into flight from the branches of a nearby cedar tree.

Emma opened her eyes. Echo-7 and the compact sped away. The side windows of their car were unbroken. No blood on her clothes. Somehow, she was alive and whole.

Jensen started after him, and the sedan thumped forward, limping with an uneven wobble as it went.

"Son of a bitch, he shot out the tires," Dodd said and leaned his head back and pressed his palms to his forehead. "Stop, stop. Just let him go."

"We're not going after him?" Emma asked.

Dodd shook his head. "First we take care of this mess before the whole goddamn world shows up and starts asking questions. Then we go after him."

She stared out her window. In her mind's eye, Echo-7 stared back at her, pistol aimed at her skull. He could've killed her, but he'd spared her life. She told herself it didn't matter. He was just a lab rat that had escaped its cage, and when the time came, she'd lose no sleep over his fate.